


Comfortable In Chaos

by QuietDoe



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 06:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10211993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietDoe/pseuds/QuietDoe
Summary: "St. Jude, the patron saint of the lost causesSt. Jude, we were lost before she startedSt. Jude, we lay in bed as she whipped around usSt. Jude, maybe I've always been more comfortable in chaos" ~ Florence Welch.(Truly not a fan of the pairing, though I've had this idea for awhile. Do enjoy).





	

What a mess...

Within the dusty outskirts of Teufort, lay two bases. Two bases normally loud and bustling - almost always fighting. Not today.

The land was littered with corpses, most BLU. Though no order was intended, there seemed to be a clear trail in the small town where things began - and hopefully ended. Countless men, mangled beyond much recognition. Usually it was the little things that could distinguish their corpses - an emblem, a signature weapon - through the blood, this was the only resort. Like it mattered. They were dead now. Away from their biggest threat, until respawn reaped them. Each cadaver was tense, a typical hand clawing for help. It was excusable why. He knew why. What wasn't contorted flesh or shredded clothing, was stained in blood. Honestly, the place reeked. Not even the cool breeze was enough to purify the unholy grounds at this point.

Cautiously, he tip toed around the travesty. In his mind rung all the disappointments he felt, yet the compassion he needed to complete his mission. He needed God, needed faith and countless times had his lips brushed against his necklace crucifix, asking for the strength needed. Luckily, he needn't fear for his life, though sometimes he wondered whether mercy truly shone on him. Each side relived the pain. Each side was losing. So who cared what he'd become? He was in the eye of the hurricane.

Like an angel descending upon the Earth, the missionary journeyed on. Silk suit of Heavenly white remained stainless. How was unknown. 

Amidst the clearing, was a tall shadow of a man. A sinister, skulking figure, adorned in all black like a widow. Like a funeral goer, his head cast down upon the deceased masses. Sickly grinning and licking a bloodied thumb, pride and pleasure filled the beast of a man. Revenge truly tasted divine! Upon approaching, the angelic figure took a deep breath.

Without turning, the beast replied "Ya late."


End file.
